Clustered for’ard between the bows and the foremost conning-tower were nearly every member of the crew: twenty-five stalwart men all dressed in plain but serviceable rig. Pacing up and down between the two conning-towers were Mr. Devoran and some one whom Hythe had not previously seen--the Second Officer Kenwyn. As they turned at the end of their promenade the two men caught sight of the sub. "Good morning, Mr. Hythe," said the chief mate genially. "Quite a fine day after our sample of the English climate, eh? By the by, I don’t think you know Kenwyn, our second officer? He only rejoined last night." The three engaged in conversation of general interest for a few minutes, then Mr. Devoran asked Hythe if he had seen the captain that morning. "Not yet," replied the sub. "I came straight on deck. It was a surprise to find myself at sea. Where are we?" "Nearly twenty miles S.W. of Ushant," replied the chief mate. "We shall be cruising about here for a few days, as we expect to fall in with a certain vessel. We have left English waters for a time, at all events, but you need not worry about that, for the captain informed me that he received a reply to his note at four this morning. You are officially ’lent’ to the ’Aphrodite’ until further orders. But breakfast is ready, and Captain Restronguet will explain matters more fully." The captain greeted Hythe with great affability, and both thoroughly hungry did justice to a good breakfast. Very little was said, and when the meal was over Captain Restronguet left the sub to his own devices while he made the customary rounds of the vessel under his command. Accordingly Hythe went on deck once more. The "Aphrodite" was slowly forging ahead at a bare five knots, her course being N.N.W ¼ W. That meant although not actually retracing her course she was heading at an acute angle to it. It was a sort of "wash-and-mend clothes day," a function resembling the time-honoured custom of keeping Thursday afternoon on board the ships of His Majesty’s Navy. The French coast was still invisible, but less than five miles off the sky line was broken by curiously cut tanned sails of the Concarneau fishing fleet. Away to the north-west a huge liner, looking without masts and funnels more like an exaggerated Noah’s Ark than anything else, was pelting through the water at a modest thirty-three knots. Perhaps had her officer of the watch chanced to direct his telescope in the direction of the "Aphrodite" he would at once conclude that he had sighted the sea serpent, for, owing to the invisible hue of her hull only the seated figures of the men on deck would come within the field of vision. The submarine was floating fairly high out of the water. More than half of her ballast tanks had been "started," and consequently there was sufficient freeboard to allow the side scuttles to be opened. With considerable buoyancy she rolled a good deal, but with a true-born sailor’s delight Hythe revelled in the motion.